Whispers had always clung to the icy windswept shores of Northrend, tales of fleeting human adventures swallowed by the vast, frozen expanse. Even in the nascent days of the Arathor Empire's fracturing, ambitious nobles, their eyes gleaming with visions of dominion, had dared to plant roots in this seemingly desolate north. Yet, the relentless march of years had left no substantial human footprint, no proud city standing defiant against the biting gales.
Was it the land itself, a barren wasteland inhospitable to civilization? The notion was laughable! Northrend pulsed with untapped riches. For millennia, it had slumbered, largely untouched by human hands, a treasure trove of towering timber forests, veins of shimmering ore snaking through the earth, and even gaping open-pit mines waiting to be claimed. Aside from the unforgiving chill, the land possessed no discernible flaws – a realm for royal expansion!
(guys on a side note have you seen that they made the Oblivion Remaster goblins British - sorry but that goblin is the most British man I've seen)
This conspicuous absence of human dominance spoke volumes, a chilling testament to an unseen terror lurking beneath the pristine snow. And now, the Alliance, in its bold push into this new frontier, was about to confront this very dread.
From the jagged peaks of Howling Fjord, a monstrous tide was descending. Giants, colossal figures towering six, seven meters above mortal men, had emerged, their brutal assault crashing against the fledgling defenses of Valgarde like a winter storm. A palpable fear gripped the pioneering vanguards of the Alliance nations. Galen's warnings of formidable foes in the icy north had conjured images of grotesque undead, savage beasts, perhaps even the dreaded Drakkari trolls! But these… these were beings of nightmare, their sheer size and fury left them surprised.
And the scale of this invasion! It was a horrifying multitude, an inexorable wave of colossal destruction. But the true terror, the element that plunged icy daggers into their hearts, was this: they rode dragons! Not mere beasts, but magnificent, fire-breathing leviathans of the sky! Only the unwavering discipline of the elite Alliance troops, the battle-hardened veterans of the First Crusade Legion, stood as a fragile bulwark against the giants' devastating attacks. Valgarde teetered on the brink of annihilation.
Then, a beacon of hope descended from the heavens. Galen, having overseen the resurrection of Dalaran, arrived in Howling Fjord riding Onyxia, her scales shimmering like molten gold in her dragon form. Landing amidst the grim-faced pioneers, he dismounted with a confident smile. "I am here, should your hearts not be filled with joy? What are these bitter expressions I see?"
A collective gasp of relief rippled through Turalyon, Varian, and the others as they beheld Galen and his majestic mount. Whispers of their marshal's extraordinary bond with the Red Dragonflight had reached their ears. The liberation of Grim Batol and the Red Dragon Queen had forged an alliance, and though the initial brood of red dragons had rejoined their kin, rumor had it that Queen Alexstrasza herself had entrusted a select few to Galen's care!
Giants riding dragons… but they had dragons too! And not only dragons, but the swift gryphon riders and the marvels of their burgeoning aerial fleet. Despair began to recede, replaced by a flicker of defiant hope. A newfound respect, bordering on reverence, shone in their eyes as they looked upon Galen.
"Well now, everyone," Galen announced, striding into the heart of Valgarde as the golden dragon behind him dissolved into a swirling mist, revealing the lithe, masked form of a human woman. "Looks like you've stumbled upon a bit of a…setback?"
The secret of Alterac's transformation into a dragon haven was a closely guarded one; Onyxia's human guise was paramount. Yet, even veiled, her presence drew envious glances from Varian and Derek. Damn it, their expressions seemed to say, some princes have all the luck! The Windrunner sisters, the Queen of Lordaeron, and now… a dragon girl! Derek nearly tore his hair out in silent frustration.
"Galen," Derek blurted out, his voice thick with exasperation, "these brutes attack thrice a day! And with uncanny precision, they strike during our meal times! The audacity!I haven't tasted my rum in three days because of these brutes! THREE DAYS!"
Galen remained impassive. He knew the formidable might of the Vrykul, a primal power that resonated with the very earth. Was not his own ancestral transformation, the blood of a demigod coursing through his veins, a connection to the ancient, rock-skinned Vrykul of old?
"Difficulties are to be expected," Galen countered, his gaze sweeping over the worried faces. "Otherwise, such a bountiful land would have been claimed long ago. The night elves themselves would likely have established a sanctuary here." The druids' explorations had indeed reached the borders of Grizzly Hills. Their reluctance to settle stemmed partly from their traditional isolation, but also from the undeniable truth: this Arctic realm was far from unclaimed. The savage trolls of Zul'Drak, the fierce Vrykul of Howling Fjord, and the ancient dragons of Dragonblight all stood as formidable deterrents.
"What troubles me most," Turalyon interjected, his brow furrowed in concern, "is how these giants command dragons!"
Galen's eyes scanned the assembled leaders – Turalyon, Varian, Danath, Liam, Derek – all noble scions, yet lacking the deeper understanding of arcane mysteries. It was no surprise they couldn't distinguish between true dragons and their more primitive cousins. "The five-colored dragons we know," Galen began, his voice taking on a pedagogical tone, "are vastly different from the proto-dragons these Vrykul have somehow managed to tame." He paused, deciding a lesson in ancient history was in order before the counter-offensive.
"Proto-dragons are indigenous to Azeroth. They lack the inherent magical essence of their later kin and possess a more rudimentary intelligence. In essence, they are powerful beasts, but beasts nonetheless." He continued, weaving a tale of primordial power. "Long ago, the largest of their kind, Galakrond, fell under the insidious influence of the Old Gods. The Titan Watchers, left with no other recourse, were forced to destroy him. From this cataclysmic battle emerged five brave proto-dragons, blessed by the Watchers with fragments of Titan power, giving rise to the magnificent five-colored dragonflights we know today."
"However," Galen emphasized, "not all proto-dragons embraced the Titans' gifts. Some remained drawn to the raw, elemental energies of Azeroth. Beyond the distant Byrakus dragons, the Storm Peaks of Northrend still teem with these ancient creatures." He broadened his scope. "Furthermore, in the Stormheim region of the Broken Isles, another lineage of proto-dragons evolved. In the ages before the Sundering, their proximity to the Well of Eternity warped their forms, imbuing them with a greater size and intellect, closer to that of true dragons. These are the Storm Dragons."
"So," Varian concluded, a hint of understanding dawning in his eyes, "these proto-dragons are essentially glorified beasts – capable of flight and fire, but no match for, say, the red dragon knights of the orcs?"
"Precisely," Galen confirmed. "That is, comparing the mounts alone, without factoring in the skill of the riders."
He rose from his chair, a dramatic flourish in his movement. "Now, let us turn our attention to these giants, these Vrykul!" He paused for effect, about to drop a revelation that would shake their understanding of their own origins. "These towering beings… they are our ancestors!"
A stunned silence filled the room. While the dwarf Brann Bronzebeard had pieced together the truth of the dwarves' earthen origins, Magni's discreet efforts had kept this knowledge largely within dwarven circles. The human leaders remained ignorant of their own distant past.
"To be precise," Galen continued, his voice resonating with the weight of history, "the Vrykul were afflicted by the Old Gods' insidious Curse of Flesh. This vile magic twisted their stone-like forms, leading to the birth of smaller, weaker offspring… and these 'deformed' infants are the progenitors of the human race!"
He painted a picture of a fallen kingdom. "The Curse of Flesh eroded the Vrykul's strength over generations, a gradual weakening that culminated in the appearance of these 'feeble' human infants. King Ymiron, in his fear and misguided attempt to preserve his people's strength, ordered the extermination of these newborns. But their defiant parents, clinging to their children, fled south, shattering the unity of the Vrykul kingdom."
"The main body of the Vrykul, the Dragonscale clan, sought refuge in slumber within the icy embrace of Howling Fjord, hoping to halt the relentless advance of the curse. Meanwhile, another faction, the Kvaldir, succumbed to a different, malevolent influence. Their bodies became encrusted with grotesque green seaweed, and upon death, they left behind only bizarre, soft-bodied remnants. For centuries, they have plagued the coastal settlements, their relentless raids eventually igniting a bitter war with the resilient Tuskarr."
The Vrykul, including the Kvaldir, are suspected of further corruption and have become pirates on Northrend's southern coast.
The Utgarde Vrykul reside on Icecrown's western coast. These infantry-focused Vrykul are considered outliers by the Dragonflayer clan but are the most numerous and powerful Vrykul group.
Howling Fjord is Dragonflayer territory. 15,000 years ago, led by King Ymiron, they magically entered slumber to evade the Curse of Flesh. The Lich King's arrival in Northrend awakened many, with Queen Angerboda, Ymiron's wife, leading many to join the Scourge. Ymiron remains asleep in Yaleron's northern fortress. Not all Dragonflayer Vrykul in Howling Fjord were awakened.
Galen's explanation provided the Alliance with an understanding of Vrykul society, easing their anxieties. They face only the incomplete Dragonflayer clan, not the entire Vrykul kingdom.
Galen pointed to a map of Howling Fjord, charted by the Argent Crusade's Hidden Dagger and Stormwind's SI:7. Howling Fjord is surrounded by sea on three sides, with constant sea winds creating a howling sound. Its coastline is steep and rocky, unsuitable for landings, with only ancient coastal elevators offering access to the cliffs. A river canyon, Daggercap Bay (location of Valgarde), bisects the plateau.
"Daggercap Bay is the primary harbor, and Utgarde Keep, north of the harbor, is the Dragonflayer capital." Galen proposed a direct assault on Utgarde Keep: besiege it, strike reinforcements, defeat rescuing Vrykul forces, and finally capture the keep.
Turalyon and others agreed. However, Derek Proudmoore voiced concerns: Utgarde Keep overlooks Daggercap Bay, making troop gathering easily detectable. Numerous Vrykul villages with crossbow cannons guard the river cliffs to the north, making attack and siege difficult. Derek recalled a past failed naval exploration due to these defenses.
"If not by sea, then by air!" Galen declared, planning to deploy new airships and zeppelins. He dismissed using individual griffons for troop transport.
Intrigued by the concept of "airships," the others awaited further explanation. Galen then assigned battle tasks:
Derek, Varian, and Liam: Lead troops from Valgarde Keep, using Kalu'ak Tuskarr cable cars on Longspear Island for landing. Their targets are the three major western Vrykul strongholds: the Dragonshrine, Halgrend, and Shield Hill. They are to occupy these as reinforcements are drawn to Utgarde Keep. Galen: Tasked High Elf and Dwarf allies with securing the Dragonflayer village of Nifflevar to the east. Galen's Stromgarde army: Will handle the remaining Vrykul strongholds in Northrend and Utgarde Keep itself.
Danath Trol'bane noted that Galen's plan effectively divided Howling Fjord's land. The warmer, fertile southern coast was allocated to other Alliance members, while Galen's Stromgarde took the more challenging Utgarde and the colder north. While seemingly generous, Galen envisioned securing the northern Scourge Hold for his father and claiming most of the remaining northern territories for Stromgarde, recognizing their untapped fertile land and abundant resources. He anticipated being seen as selfless rather than greedy.